


Stuck

by ManyFandomsOneLog



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Discworld/Good Omens, F/M, It’s a Discworld good omens crossover, M/M, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManyFandomsOneLog/pseuds/ManyFandomsOneLog
Summary: His Grace, Duke Of Ankh-Morpork,  Blackboard Monitor, and Commander of the City Watch Sir Samuel Vimes rubbed the bridge of his nose, “So, you expect me to believe that you broke into the Ankh-Morpork Museum Of Art onaccident?”Crowley sighed, adjusting his sunglasses, “Yeah, that just about sums it up.”





	1. Gavotting Into Another World

There were not two but three whole empty bottles of fine wine in the back room of Azra Fell’s Bookshop. One did not have to look very far to see who drank them, stumbling around the room, were two very drunk immortal beings. One was a demon, and one was angel. Currently, the angel, Aziraphale was attempting to model an extremely drunken gavotte.

“That’ssss way to many stepss for anyone to bloody... you know... not forget? Remember! Yeah, remember. Bessssidess, don’t you need a partner to do a ballroom danccce?” Crowley, the demon, commented, watching the angel with interest.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “Anthony, dear boy.....” He stopped, seemingly to remember where he was going with his sentence, “Are you.. uh.. commandeering?” He frowned. That wasn’t right. “Er... Volunteering?”

Crowley grinned in a way that only someone who was once a snake can grin, “Asssss a matter of..of thing, angel.. I am.”

Ten minutes later, after some bloody awful, but extremely enjoyable activity that vaguely resembled dancing, there was a sudden sound from the direction of one of the bookshelves. It was something like the sound of a harp in a tornado, if said tornado was bright purple, and there were twenty harps instead of just one. Aziraphale was distantly reminded of heaven, although he had only ever heard or seen a harp in heaven when Gabriel attempted to take it up, however this was a fortunately short period of time before Gabriel’s temper had caused him to smite the harp and a proclamation to be passed for all harps to be banned from heaven completely. The moment Crowley heard about this incident, however, he made sure that Aziraphale, Gabriel, or any other angel would constantly be reminded of the dreaded instrument by it’s inevitable appearance in every depiction of Heaven.

Carefully, the two got their limbs in order and took care to sober up before half-stumbling over to the source of the sound. They both went behind the bookshelf, where there was a mysterious light, and then there was a POP! and in a flash the bookshop was severely lacking in its angel and demon population.

However, the Ankh-Morpork Museum Of Art had a sudden increase in its own.

Crowley groaned from underneath Aziraphale on the cold, unfamiliar floor. “That’s my face, angel.”

“Oh, forgive me, dear.” There was an extraction of limbs and shuffling as the two helped each other up.

“Hey Angel?”

“Yes?”

“Where the hell are we?”

 


	2. Powerless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Things go downhill quickly after Crowley and Aziraphale find themselves in the middle of a museum surrounded by the Ankh-Morpork City Watch..._

Crowley was surprised when the police arrived, but not all that concerned. It was a little weird that he hadn’t heard any sirens, though. At the moment, though, he had more important things to worry about, such as figuring out where he and his angel were. He was leaning over Aziraphale’s shoulder, looking at the bottom of a sculpture for some clues, when the officers broke the door down, surrounding the pair. They continued inspecting the sculpture, until someone cleared their throat loudly. A female voice spoke, “You’re under arrest for breaking and entering as well as attempted robbery, under the authority of the Ankh-Morpork city watch.” Crowley turned around, expecting to find an array of navy-clad officers pointing guns. Instead, he was surprised to find a group in armor, of all things, pointing crossbows like this was the bloody 18th century. He looked over at Aziraphale, who shared his confused expression, “I’m sorry, could you please repeat what city this is, dear?”  
The woman who had addressed them earlier had lean muscles and tan skin with a mess of caramel-colored hair on the top of her head, and her eyes narrowed at Aziraphale’s words. (Crowley swore he heard a growl) Before she could speak, a tall, muscular man with ginger hair laid a calming hand on her shoulder, “The city of Ankh-Morpork, of course, and I’m Captain Carrot. Unfortunately, you two are going to need to come with us and answer some questions. If you can just come quietly, we should be able to work together here.” Then he beamed, and Crowley was very glad to be wearing sunglasses, facing a smile that bright. He felt a very familiar impulse to just go with the nice officer, because it would only take a minute really, and it was all just a big misunderstanding.. Ah, so that’s why it was familiar. That momentary feeling was exactly the same as when Aziraphale was trying to convince him something. Although he couldn’t sense any angelic presence on this Carrot guy, Crowley wasn’t very convinced that he wasn’t an angel. He looked between the two, and noticed Aziraphale sporting a matching smile. Oh go-, oh no, there’s two of them.  
“Thanks for the offer, but we’re going to have to pass,” Crowley linked his arm around Aziraphale’s, “C’mon angel.”  
Crowley then made a complicated hand gesture, intending to send the officers somewhere far away, but instead it was like he’d hit a metaphysical brick wall. Since the literal Beginning, he’d always been able to summon and make things happen with the blink of an eye. (Maybe not the best analogy, considering he rarely blinks now, and never blinked then.) He could faintly sense the Power he’d always had, but it was like the pulse of a coma victim, barely there at all. Frantically, Crowley performed the gesture again, but once again felt the wall blocking him from his powers. He looked to Aziraphale, who looked confused. “I can’t- My powers don’t..” Aziraphale’s brows furrowed deeper. “Wha-“ He stopped. Crowley felt something prodding his back, and stood very, very still.  
“I’m afraid it wasn’t really a request.”  
Crowley slowly put his hands up.  
They were marched outside to a bloody _horse-drawn station wagon_ of all things, hands cuffed behind backs. Crowley only got a brief glimpse of the city, which looked almost exactly like 18th century London.. except everything was a little bit off. What had they called it? Ankle More Pork? He wasn’t currently able to look further as he was told to step inside the carriage by the lady with the very sharp crossbow.  
The way there was relatively quiet, save for the rattle of the carriage and the typical Ankh-Morpork yells and crashes. The crossbow was eventually moved off of his back, which almost made Crowley sigh with relief. He immediately looked over at Aziraphale. Crowley knew he must’ve lost his powers as well, because even Aziraphale wasn’t going to just let them get arrested like this. Crowley met eyes with his counterpart, glad to see their familiar steel blue color.  
It wasn’t very long until the carriage stopped, and Crowley looked out the window to see a nice, though old, building labeled “Psedopolis Yard” and under that “Ankh-Morpork City Watch”. Him and Aziraphale were led into the building, and then down the stairs to the cells. Crowley suddenly remembered the violent methods and high brutality rates of watchmen in the 18th century, and he felt panic rising up. Without his powers.. was he even able to heal?  
“Alright, this way..” The intimidating woman from earlier said, leading him in a direction the complete opposite way of Aziraphale.  
“Wait, we’re going to separate cells?!”  
_Nonononono._  
“Er, yeah? Just so we can make sure we get two separate stories.”  
_They might hurt Aziraphale. They might hurt his angel._ The panic returned just at the thought, and Crowley jerked himself out of the sergeant’s grip, stumbling without the balance of his arms.  
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” The sergeant yelled as Crowley sped in the direction of Aziraphale, who turned around, “Crowley, I think you’re overreacting-“  
Once again he tried to summon up his powers, unlock his handcuffs, unlock the angel’s, with no luck. Once again, it was like running into a wall where his powers should be. The impact was so hard he stumbled again, this time falling hard on his head, the impact on the cobblestone floor sending pain coursing through his skull. He could faintly hear voices and footsteps coming down the stairs, and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was the stubbled face of a very irritated man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: it’s Vimes.


	3. Minor Concussion, Major Annoyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _One concussed flash bastard without sunglasses and one stone-faced commander walk into a hospital.._

Sam Vimes’s day was going downhill fast. He’d been in the watch house, checking up on everyone, when he heard yelling and clamoring noises coming from the barracks. He cursed, putting down the case file he’d been reading to rush downstairs. “What’s all the-“ Vimes ran into the room only to see a hand-cuffed man with black hair fall to the floor, head hitting the cobbles with a sickening crack as his dark glasses fell off of his head. A few feet away, a sophisticated-looking blond man cried out, “Crowley!” Vimes was immediately next to the fallen one, turning him over to find serpentine yellow eyes. Vimes only frowned deeper, because this was Ankh-Morpork after all, as the man’s eyes drifted closed. “Sergeant Angua, help me get this man to the Hospital. Maybe on the way you can explain to me what the hell happened.” The Sergeant jumped into action, helping Vimes lift the man (possibly werewolf?).  
“Is he going to be okay?!”  
He turned to see the blond man attempting to very politely get free from Carrot’s hold with a distressed expression.  
“Er.. yes, we just need to get him to the Sybil Free Hospital as soon as possible. I’ll have someone inform you once we do that. Captain, please take him to his cell.” Vimes and Angua began walking up the stairs, “Oh, and don’t interrogate him until I get back.”  
Once up the stairs, they broke into a much faster pace, watchmen stumbling out of the way to avoid getting hit as the pair hurdled through with the unconscious body.  
They were soon at the Lady Sybil Free Hospital, the door already being opened as they climbed up the stairs to the entrance. A nurse rushed over, leading them to an empty bed to set the man down.  
Vimes and Angua finally sat at two nearby chairs, Vimes subtly catching his breath. After the nurse seemed to finish her checkup, she turned to them, “Well, it looks like he’ll be alright, he just has a minor concussion, but it’s nothing we can’t deal with. What happened?”  
Vimes sighed, “Tried to make a break for it while handcuffed.. when he fell he couldn’t break his fall.”  
The nurse nodded and went to go help with more urgent things. Vimes felt he should probably know her name, but the Hospital, like the Watch, seemed to be employing so many people these days that he hardly knew anyone anymore. Vimes turned to Angua, “Did you see his eyes?” He asked, gesturing to the unconscious body in the bed. Angua nodded.  
“What do you think of that? Werewolf?”  
She frowned, “I can tell when someone is a werewolf, and he’s not. He does smell.. odd. Inhuman. Not like anything I’ve known before.”  
Vimes didn’t know where to even begin with that information. Something unknown? He wasn’t about to hire this guy for the Watch, no matter what Vetinari does, after the trouble he’s caused. “Huh.. Well, I’m sure you’ll be of a lot better use back at the Yard. I can handle this alone.”  
“Are you sure, sir?”  
“Yeah yeah, I got it.” Vimes waved a hand, and Angua saluted and headed back to the Yard.

The man didn’t wake up for another twenty minutes, which was long enough for Vimes to remember his name. Crowley. That’s what the blond man had called him, if he’d heard correctly. Vimes had been sitting in the same chair for the entire time, thinking, watching, and occasionally talking to the nurse who was checking in on Crowley every few minutes.  
Suddenly, his yellow eyes opened and he bolted upwards. Vimes jumped up from his seat, yelling, “He’s awake!” Meanwhile, Crowley attempted to get out of the bed, but seemed to be hit by another bought of pain, clutching his head and crying out.  
“Alright, alright, take it easy there.” Vimes said, holding up his hands.  
Crowley whirled around to face him, seeming to have to focus on his face for a few seconds before narrowing his eyes. “Zira.”  
“Wha-“  
“Where’s Aziraphale?”  
“What the hell is th-“  
“Aziraphale. Blond. Blue-grey eyes. Poofy.”  
Vimes remembered the blond man he’d hardly got a glimpse of. From what he’d gathered, that just about summed up the man. “Ah, your friend. He’s just in a holding cell back at the Yard until I get back.” Crowley seemed to visibly relax a bit, going to lean back on his arm, only to somehow fall and land on the pillow with a woomph.  
Vimes looked down at him with an eyebrow raised in amusement, “Look, Crowley, is it? Your friend is fine. You, on the other hand.. clearly not so great. You’re going to need to calm down and rest before you hurt yourself more.”  
At this point, a nurse had made it to the bed, and she took over with questions and a checkup before Crowley could respond.  
After a bit, she turned to Vimes, “He should be just fine to go back with you. Honestly, he’s being a bit of a crybaby about the injury. By this point, he shouldn’t be feeling much at all except maybe a bit of pain and wooziness.”  
Vimes thanked her, and the moment she had walked away Crowley’s voice popped up again, “Will I be able to see Aziraphale again soon? Need to make sure that bugger doesn’t make too much of a fuss. Where are my shades?”  
This was spoken so quickly that Vimes could just barely tell what he said.  
“You won’t be able to see Az-“ Vimes decided that was a name he wasn’t prepared to try to pronounce, “Your friend until after you’re both individually questioned.”  
“I _what_?!” Crowley jerked up.  
He sure was sensitive about that guy.  
“We have to make sure you don’t share a made-up story. Just a few questions, it’s really not the end of the world.”  
“The end of the world, huh? I know more about that then you ever will, mate.”  
“What the hell are you-“  
“Look, the point is, if he’s hurt, you’ll regret it.”  
Vimes was done.  
“That’s Threatening An Officer added to your charges..”

This back-and-forth conversation went on for much too long, until finally Crowley agreed to go back to the Yard. Once they were there, Vimes handed that problem over to a couple coppers he trusted, muttering a little good riddance under his breath. Carrot approached him soon after, looking worse for wear. “Sir.”  
Vimes raised his eyebrows, noting Carrot’s tasseled hair and askew uniform. Carrot always looked immaculate. “Captain Carrot, what the hell’s happened to you?”  
“You remember the fellow we brought in along with the one you had to take to the hospital?”  
Vimes’s eyes began to widen, “ _Him_?”  
“Yes sir. He put up quite a fight when you took away his friend. At first he was just asking very politely if he could go with you, and then he.. I don’t know sir, he went mad. It took me and two officers combined to get him into his cell.”  
“Bloody hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Aziraphale’s Interrogation


End file.
